Apathytown
by TheDonutMistress
Summary: Trowa POV. Post EW. Trowa reluctantly accompanies Quatre to see Duo. Who'd have thought the God of Death could make such a nice life for himself? Who'd have thought the apathetic clown could want a place in it? Angst and attempted humor. 2plus3. Shonen-ai
1. Chapter 1

_In retrospect, I really, really dislike parts of this. And who took my double dashes? That's so not cool. I don't like that my double dashes were mysteriously reduced to being single dashes. Srsly, ff-dot-net, I don't need any outside help to make my writing look like ass.  
_

_Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Gundam Wing characters, etc. _

_Warnings and pairings and notes, oh my: Mild spoilers for Duo's Episode Zero (later on), and possibly Trowa's too, fairly obvious 2+3, eventual 2+3+2. Established 4xD mentioned. And I am attempting to write this from Trowa's POV._

_**If you're going to skim over most of this author's note (I guess I can't blame you), at least read this part: Hardcore 3x4 lovers beware. If you can't stomach the idea of Trowa and Quatre with people other than Trowa and Quatre, well, please don't read this, then tell me, "OMG i hate u quatre and trowa 4ever u bitch!" I'm good to both characters (not a word about the 4xD :P) even though I am not putting them together.**_

_For the record, I happen to like Dorothy, and quite a bit. So, please don't confuse any particular character's opinion of her with my own. I hope she doesn't seem terribly wimpy and OOC, though she's not an active character in the story. I just can't dedicate a bunch of time to explaining her motivations, or go into too much detail about her current situation etc. in a story that isn't about her._

_As always, I try to look around for stories similar to my own before posting, to be sure I'm not stepping on anyone's toes. If you happen to see another fic here that bears a strong resemblance to this (and pre-dates it), feel free to let me know and I'll offer it a plug here. I would never rip anyone off, but hey, great minds think alike. And fellow 2x3/3x2 lovers are indeed great minds. :)  
_

_There are more notes at the end of the chapter. Because I'm a note-whore.  
_

* * *

For a small-time circus, we sure got around. It took me quite some time to notice it, our sporadic route. I guess it was because I didn't often travel with everyone. I just showed up at various destinations, in between my missions. But there are no more missions and I've been with the troupe everywhere, nearly every day, from the Earth to the colonies, since then...

Quatre and I stayed in touch, messaging back and forth and talking on the phone when we both had the time, but we hadn't actually seen each other in ages. It was during our most recent conversation that I'd made the mistake of telling him I was back in space, in the L2 cluster, and would be there a while.

"L2?" he asked, almost dreamily. A moment later, he rather excitedly informed me, "Duo lives there!"

I mouthed a curse. "_Damnit."_

"I have to make a trip there myself. Trowa, we should meet up. We should meet up and go see Duo!" Quatre suggested, gung-ho as ever.

"Quatre." I spoke his name harshly, as if I were scolding an unruly pet, rather than addressing a close friend.

It didn't seem to faze him, though. He was a man on a mission, now. "Please, Trowa, let's go and see Duo," he pleaded. "I haven't seen him in so long."

"Nothing is stopping you from seeing Duo," I reminded him. "Certainly not me."

"Of course not. But something _is _stopping you from seeing him," Quatre pointed out, the amusement evident in his voice. I wondered what the hell he thought that something was.

Yeah, something _has _kept me from seeing Duo. It's the same thing that's kept me from seeing just about everyone for the past two years: peace.

* * *

It's rude, and just plain wrong of me to even think it, but sometimes I can't help but feel like Quatre gets whatever Quatre wants, and if not when he wants, then very shortly thereafter. I had to remind myself he didn't get me. Logic told me I was probably just angry to be there with him, closing in on the scrap yard Duo runs with that Hilde girl.

According to Quatre, the space above the management office has been converted into an apartment, and Duo and Hilde live together as well. I wondered if it was business or pleasure, this living arrangement of theirs. I wondered why I didn't like the idea of it being the latter. Hilde seemed nice enough, the few times I spoke with her. She just didn't seem right for Duo. Then again, who does?

The place was fenced in, but the gates seemed to be open. Quatre and I trudged forward, surrounded by scraps, leftovers, unwanted parts. Pieces from the past, unnecessary now, but what else is there to do but let them pile up around us? Force them to join up, buff them, polish them, pound them, melt them - any means of combining them, really - in hopes of creating something new?

Some things just don't fit together.

It didn't take us long to spot Duo, or for him to spot us. As expected, his hair was still past his waist and in its trademark braid. But it was anybody's guess how he was dressed underneath the faded black coveralls he wore.

We met each other halfway.

"Well well well," Duo marveled, smirking. He put his hands on his hips. "Quatre said you were coming, but I really wasn't expecting to see you, Circus Boy."

My eye wanted to twitch, my mouth to frown, over the nickname, but I remained expressionless. I thought - _hoped_ - after all this time, that Duo would've forgotten he'd ever called me that.

"Duo!" Quatre shouted, practically lunging at him.

"Eh?" Duo asked, feebly, looking a little confused.

Quatre reached out and purposely grabbed both of Duo's arms. He then very seriously informed him, "_Duo_, you _look _like a _convict_."

Duo blinked a couple of times and his jaw dropped, but he didn't do much else to defend himself or his attire. Then, he furrowed his brow and pouted for a moment, before dismissing the event altogether and warmly extending the invitation, "Hey, come on inside. I'll give you guys the tour."

Give us guys the tour...? I found it a little hard to believe that this was Quatre's first time here, but I kept my skepticism in check.

Duo chattered constantly, pointing out things, as we passed through the office. The ceiling was lined with fluorescent lights, at least one of the walls with whiteboard. The office was home to a long, worn-out old table, which a computer sat up top of, with a few mismatched chairs around it. There was an ancient looking black and white TV in the corner. Two filing cabinets stood side by side, near to a couple of bookshelves, lined end to end with binders. I saw a couple of stray clipboards, and a few plants here and there. There was a small intercom on the wall, near a closed door. I assumed this door led to the apartment upstairs.

I pondered what it might look like up above, if _this _level was any indication. I wondered that about Duo as well, what all there was above _his _ground floor. Just like I was curious as to what he was wearing underneath those coveralls. Well, maybe not _just like _that.

I'm not sure why I thought about things like that, but one thing was clear to me: I didn't _like _that I thought about things like that. I didn't like the way I felt, thinking about Duo. I didn't like that I felt, period, thinking about Duo.

Duo pulled out a key when he reached the door. He jiggled it a little in the lock, turned the knob and pushed the door open. He ascended the narrow staircase like he had countless times before. Only, this time, Quatre and I followed behind him. He stopped on the landing and unlocked yet another door.

There were a lot of locked doors, I noticed. Of course, Duo had the keys to each and every one.

* * *

"Sorry if it looks like shit," Duo apologized, flippantly, as he led us into the apartment. It was clear he didn't mean it. "Hilde's been out of town."

I said nothing, betrayed no emotion, just scanned my surroundings as slyly as I could.

The apartment itself was small - bigger than my trailer, obviously, but still small. There was a loveseat directly in front of the TV, with a few pillows on it, and a pastel colored afghan draped over the back. A small coffee table sat off to the side of the couch, rather than in front of it. In front, instead, were two chairs - soft and curvy and low to the ground. Very _modern_. One black - that one had to be Duo's. The other was a soft brown - Hilde's, I guessed. The television was huge, far too big for such a small space. Around it, a stereo, two big speakers and several video game consoles. In the corner, near the glass doors (a balcony in an apartment above a scrap yard...?) were stacks of movies, games, music and books, some of which I recognized. Books, mostly. But the bulk of it was stuff I'd never heard of. Then again, I'm no expert on popular culture.

"Are you really?" I asked, suddenly, not quite sure why I was doing it.

"Am I really what?" Duo asked, curiously.

Quatre let out a little, "Huh?"

"Are you really sorry?"

"That it looks like shit?" Now Duo understood. He chuckled before I could answer him. "Saw right through me, didn't ya? Well, in case you hadn't noticed, this is the living room. TV, stereo, games, gaming chairs. They're _so_ comfy - black one's mine. Couch, balcony."

So there _was_ a balcony.

Duo turned and headed for the kitchen, if it could be called that. "Kitchen. Bathroom's down the hall. So are the bedrooms. My room's first, Hilde's is at the end. You guys can just put your stuff wherever."

Quatre followed Duo into the kitchen and I trailed behind the both of them. Once in the kitchen, he suddenly, and very enthusiastically declared, "I love it!"

Duo's body language told of pure shock. "You do?"

Quatre nodded, firmly. "I really do." He paused and inhaled deeply. He looked so damn dreamy-eyed. "You really live here." It wasn't a question.

"Affirmative," Duo said, and gave one quick, certain nod.

"You have a lovely home, Duo." Any doubts I had about whether or not Quatre had been here before went out the window with that statement. He _hadn't_ been, and I couldn't help but wonder why.

"Lovely...?" Duo repeated the word, awkwardly, looking more than a bit confused. He shrugged it off, then opened the refrigerator door and peered inside. "Thirsty, fellas? Let's see. We got milk. Maybe." He examined the carton carefully, then looked back. "What's today?"

"The fourteenth," I answered.

"Sweet. We got milk."

"That would be just fine," Quatre said, softly, his manners and good breeding coming through even stronger than before.

"Wait, hang on. What month is it again?"

"June." This time it was Quatre who answered.

"Oh, damn." Duo put the carton back into the fridge. "We don't got milk. Sorry if I got your hopes up."

"Duo! Don't just put that back in there!" Quatre nudged Duo out of the way and took the long-expired milk out of the fridge and held it up to inspect it. "_April_? This expired in _April_?"

Just how long had Hilde been out of town...?

Duo glanced my way and very loudly whispered, "Geez, somebody's pretty hardcore about his milk, isn't he?"

"When it's been spoiled for nearly two months, yes!" Quatre shouted. "That's hardly even milk anymore! It's practically cheese now!" he continued, prepared to dispose of the carton and its rancid contents.

"Then what are you doing, throwing it away? Waste not, want not."

"_Want not_. You can say that again," Quatre muttered.

"You're the one who said you loved it here," Duo reminded him, with a sort of casual defiance.

"And I do! Just promise me something." Now Quatre sounded like himself.

"I'm listening," Duo agreed, albeit hesitantly.

"Promise me you won't drink that milk."

"Done."

"Promise me something else."

"Yeah...?"

"Promise me you won't _eat _that milk either."

"Man's gotta eat." Duo shrugged.

"There must be _something _in there to eat." Quatre moved in to take a closer look.

"Are you sure you want to see what else is in there?" I decided to involve myself in the conversation once more. "Are you sure you want to open that can of worms?"

"Hey!" Duo snapped, and it was enough to evoke a reaction from both Quatre and me. "I don't have worms in there... anymore... I don't think."

* * *

It was just me and Duo there in the apartment. Quatre, practically in a frenzy over Duo's dire food situation, had gone off grocery shopping, and wouldn't hear of either of us going with him. He left his luggage on the floor, and his laptop on the table, taking only his phone with him. I never actually saw the thing, just the wireless headset he wore, and remembered him taking a couple of calls on the way to Duo's.

He was a big, important businessman now. Things had changed for Quatre when he turned eighteen; things, in the form of his sisters dumping a lot more responsibility on him. He isn't a Gundam pilot anymore, and he isn't a kid anymore. He's his father's son, and the heir to Winner Enterprises Inc.

He's the CEO of WEI, Duo's in charge of this place, and I... I ride lions, wear clown pants, and stand really still while my _sister_ throws knives at me.

"I don't _really _look like a convict, do I?" Duo asked, suddenly, with a slight pout.

I pursed my lips just a bit. "That, or a bank robber from an old silent movie. You'd only be a convict if you were caught."

Duo put a hand to his chest and pretended to be deeply hurt, then tipped his head back and laughed.

"Caught and, well_, convicted_," I added, needlessly.

"Bank robber it is, then. Except, I'd need a mask," Duo concluded, seriously enough. "Gotta be incognito. _Inconspicuous_."

_As inconspicuous as a masked man with a three foot long braid can be_, I thought, but said nothing more than, "Of course."

"I'd need loot, too."

"A white sack with a dollar sign on it?" I guessed.

Duo nodded, enthusiastically, then gave me a rather ambitious high-five. "See, I knew I liked you for a reason!" he exclaimed. "Something other than the fact that you're ridiculously good looking, that is."

I sort of huffed. Both the hand-slap and his words were like needles. But while the mild pain in my palm faded to a tingle, the sting of Duo's _supposed _compliment turned to ache, settling deep inside of me. "Stop," I said, seriously.

Duo let out a confused little, "Hmm?" He cocked his head to the side and asked, "You alright?"

"Where the hell is Quatre?" I muttered. It didn't take me long to regret opening my mouth. "What's taking him so long?"

Duo shrugged and stood up. He turned away somewhat sharply, and headed down the hallway. He disappeared into his room. I took it to mean I'd made him mad. He had never been one to hold grudges, or let my complete lack of tact get to him. But things were different now. Part of me wanted to deny that, another, to embrace it. One thing had stayed the same, that was for sure. It was a trademark of our relationship, almost. _One step forward, two steps back_. That was our dance, Duo's and mine.

He was back in the living room soon enough, and he'd ditched the coveralls. He had on long, baggy cargo shorts and a shirt that read: _WARNING: The person wearing this shirt has been known to make a pass at almost anyone. If I don't hit on you, there can only be one explanation: YOU UGLY._

What can I say? It was fitting, and it beat the old days, where Duo went about his business dressed like some vigilante priest.

Once over the hurdle that was his attire, I noticed that Duo was holding a black scarf, an off-white drawstring bag, a wide-tip, permanent black marker, and a pair of scissors. He sat down and spread everything out on the floor in front of him. He then took the scissors in one hand, the scarf in his other, and began to cut...

"Eye holes?" I asked, successfully fighting off any potential chuckles. The guy was unbelievable.

He grinned - a real Cheshire Cat kind of grin - and nodded, somewhat manically. The smile faded, almost instantly, though, as Duo very sincerely said, "Sorry if I, you know. And right after you just got here, too. Wasn't _tryin' _to piss you off or anything. I kinda just... _do_, don't I?"

I couldn't say anything to reassure him, much as I wanted to. I couldn't even shake my head no. I looked down, and I could feel my hair slide down over my eye. I swear, nothing this side of shaving my whole head is going to change that.

What did it matter anyway? _My_ mask was already in place. _My _mask never really came off. For a while I thought it might have, but I was wrong. For a while I thought it might've been broken altogether, but it hadn't been. It had hardly been cracked.

Duo had finished _his _mask, it would seem, and was tightening the knot in the back, when I lifted my head to face him. His eyes were so incredibly bright against the smooth, shimmering black fabric.

Silk? What the hell was _he_ doing with a silk scarf...?

I remained silent, breaking eye contact almost as soon as Duo had established it. I reached for the marker and the bag. I could feel him watching me as I uncapped the pen. One thick, gigantic dollar sign later, I recapped it and casually tossed the bag Duo's way.

His eyes twinkled, dangerously, as he clutched his newly made loot sack.

I deadpanned, "You look like a lunatic."

He feigned offense and gripped the bag tighter. After a moment he asked, "Good, yeah?"

I couldn't help but smile over the silliness of it all. "All you need now is a blonde to tie to a set of railroad tracks," I agreed, rolling my eyes.

The buzzer sounded, interrupting anything Duo might've had to say to that. He stood up and sort of swaggered over to the intercom. "Yo."

"Duo?" Of course, it was Quatre.

How. Absolutely. Perfect.

Finger poised and ready to press the button and buzz him in, Duo remarked, "If that ain't divine intervention, I don't know what is."

Divine intervention? _Quatre _intervention is more like it.

* * *

Poor Quatre's suggestion in regards to what we'd do for dinner was vetoed, almost immediately. He'd wanted to go somewhere nice - money was no object, obviously - since it was the first time the three of us had been together in nearly two years.

Duo had insisted, "Oh, hell no. You ain't gettin' me into some fancy-ass joint and makin' me eat, hell, I don't know, sautéed eyeballs, 'in a white wine sauce.' Not. Gonna. Happen. Period. I don't know what you're thinkin', Quatre, but I worry about you sometimes." Duo had this habit of leaving the 'g' off the end of a word when he was agitated. I'd forgotten about it, being away from him for so long.

Quatre looked to me for support. I said, simply, "Sorry, Quatre. I had sautéed eyeballs for breakfast."

Duo clapped me on the shoulder. For the moment, we were allies. Quatre's jaw dropped and he actually looked shocked. This wasn't just him pretending to still be that naive, wide-eyed fifteen year old we first met three years ago. He didn't bother with that around us. He hadn't for quite a while.

"So this is what happens when I get you two together?" he asked, regretfully. Now _this_ was a put-on. Totally and completely.

"Among other things," Duo replied, with a wink.

"Dinner?" I asked, trying to change the subject, but without anyone realizing that was what I was trying to do. A lost cause, I know.

Duo took command, and swept us off to some little hole-in-the-wall restaurant. A small, poorly lit, relatively tastelessly decorated place that served quite possibly the best Italian I've ever had.

After dinner, Duo ushered us off to some pool hall, where Quatre, I'm almost ashamed to admit, kicked our asses. I should've guessed. It's a rich man's sport, isn't it? But still, I had no idea Quatre had a talent for the game. I felt a pang of guilt over not knowing that about him.

The guilt was gone quickly enough, though, as he won, yet again.

Duo scowled, and accused, "Quatre's tryin' to hustle me."

"I am not!"

"You've won every game," Duo pointed out.

"I have," Quatre admitted. He leaned on his cue a little. "But if I were trying to hustle you, wouldn't I have let you win a few first?"

"He's got a point," I agreed.

Quatre reached up and touched his ear. I'd almost forgotten he still had his headset on. He excused himself to take the call, leaving me and Duo alone. Again. This was the second time in one day. I worried this might become a habit.

"Sneaky little - wouldn't I let you win a few first? Thinks he's _so _clever," Duo was grumbling, as he walked away from the pool table and sat down. "I'm onto him."

I sat down across from him and rested my chin in my hand. After a few moments of silence, something came over me and I asked, "How did you know about this place?"

Duo shrugged. "Used to come here after school. Some of my classmates dragged me here."

I took a moment to wrap my mind around the idea of anyone dragging Duo anywhere.

He added, "Used to walk by a lot, but I never came inside."

"School?"

Duo nodded. "Yeah, thought I'd try it out for real, not just as a cover. Took a few classes. Takin' some more next fall, too. Nothing serious. Can't say I've really learned anything. Did put a few more gray hairs on my professors' heads, though."

"That alone makes it worthwhile, right?" I guessed.

Duo let out a bark of laughter. He then chose to impersonate one of his teachers. "'Meeshta Maxwell. We do not shleep in class. Meeshta Maxwell, we do not make papuh ech-planes out of our exam papuhs.' I tell ya, some people just expect too much."

I shook my head.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. Quatre had come back. "Did I miss anything?"

I answered with a quick, "No."

Duo crossed his arms, turned his nose up, and insisted, "I don't associate with hustlers."

"Oh, for crying out loud, Duo, I didn't cheat you."

We left the pool hall shortly after that. We decided to see a late movie, when Duo noticed one of his favorites, The Empire Strikes Back, was showing. He was appalled to hear that neither Quatre or I had seen it before. If we hadn't already agreed to go, I imagine that would've sealed our fate.

Quatre only got up and left once, to take another call, most likely. I suppose he could've gone to the bathroom. But I knew he hadn't turned his phone off. He'd only double-checked to make sure it was set to vibrate, prompting a comment from Duo, in the process.

"You know what they say about guys who keep their phone on vibrate?"

"That they don't want to interrupt the movie...?"

"Yeah, you go on thinkin' that, buddy."

I contemplated switching rows.

* * *

Duo, Quatre and I headed back to the apartment after the movie, all tired, but none of us really wanting to admit it. Duo, once he was sure we were all locked in, bid us goodnight with a wave and disappeared into his bedroom. It didn't take either me or Quatre long to settle in, he on the couch, me on the floor.

The lights hadn't even been off five minutes before Quatre decided to ask, "Are you having fun, Trowa?"

"Fun?" I echoed.

"Yeah. _Fun_. You act like you don't know what I'm talking about."

"Fun? What is this fun you speak of?" I asked, robotically. I probably sounded like I always do.

Quatre laughed. I could tell he was trying to be quiet about it. "Oh, shut up, Trowa."

I obliged.

A moment later, Quatre decided, independently of me, "You're having fun."

"I am?"

I could hear Quatre's breathing. I could tell when he exhaled, and just how slowly he'd done it. "You are." Another breath, and then, "It's nice to be together again, isn't it?"

"You say it like it's the last time," I noted, some sort of self-righteousness manifesting itself inside of me.

"Things change, Trowa. Who knows. It could be."

* * *

_A/N: Oh, damn. Why would Quatre say something like that? Guess you'll just have to read the next chapter and see. Unless this sucked so much ass you don't want to read past this point. Anyway, I said there'd be more notes._

_**Locations and canon, etc**: If my memory serves me right, the word "trailer" pops up in regards to the scrap yard Duo is at during the series, so yes, I know I'm describing his place now quite a bit differently. I hope no one is violently opposed to that. I've got Duo back in the L2 cluster, as you've well read. I don't know where this junk yard he operates actually is, so I chose L2 because of its association with the character and I have yet to find anything to either confirm or disprove this._

_Trowa thinks of Catherine as a sister, which would be why he sometimes refers to her as such. I'm not going into the details of his Episode Zero in this fic, though._

_**Personality:** Yes, Duo is the funny one, but I don't think he's stupid, and I am aware of what he has been through. I respect the character greatly; he's one of my favorites. So please don't take my lighthearted Duo moments as lack of respect for him, or a question of his intelligence. People can be both funny and smart. He'll be smart(er) later on._

_**Timeline:** This is set one-and-a-half to two years after Endless Waltz. So the guys are all eighteen._

_**Misc:** Totally broke through the fourth wall by mentioning Star Wars. I say it exists in Gundam world. :) And I have Duo's shirt.  
_


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Gundam Wing characters, etc._

_Warnings, notes, and such: As stated before, this is a 2+3. It'll be mutual at some point. Heh. There's also whispers of 4xD, though it's only a background pairing. This is a Trowa POV, and it doesn't span a lot of time. _

_I'd love to hear what you all think about this chapter, and the story as a whole._

_More notes at the end, of course. And you'd better read them. There will be a test.  
_

* * *

I got up early, took a shower, and decided I'd contribute something to this forced, though relatively painless reunion, and make breakfast for the three of us. I can't say I'm a great cook, but I'm pretty confident my culinary skills outshine Duo's or Quatre's, just about any day. Quatre's never really had to cook for himself, and Duo... Well, I figured there was a chance he'd actually _eaten _the worms he'd alluded to having in his refrigerator.

As I was getting out of the shower, I heard a crash coming from Duo's room, and the declaration, "Nothin' to worry about, I'm _okay_!"

I hadn't actually seen inside his bedroom yet, so I could only speculate. These speculations evoked a slight chuckle.

There was another crash. "I repeat, I am _okay_!"

I laughed again. There was a knock on the door and it startled me. I was glad nobody had seen. Nobody but me.

"Yo, Trowa." It was Duo. "Quatre still asleep?"

"He _was_," I replied.

"Yeah yeah. I got a couple things to do, but it won't take me long."

"Right."

"Speak of the devil," I heard Duo say, and I took it to mean Quatre had popped up.

"Is everything okay? I thought I heard things falling."

"Yeah. Don't worry about that. You know how clumsy Trowa is."

Normally, I'd have completely ignored the statement - a statement that had been made purely to draw me out. I knew this, and yet, I felt compelled to defend myself. I opened the door and stepped out. "That was not me."

Duo grabbed my biceps, winked and murmured, "Lookin' good, Tro. I vote we make this the official uniform here at Casa de Maxwell."

"A towel?" I deadpanned.

Duo nodded, firmly, resolutely.

"Well, as I'm not a resident here at 'Casa de Maxwell,' I'm afraid I'm ineligible to take part in this election." I tried to nudge my way past Duo. "My clothes are in the other room."

Duo sort of reluctantly let me by. "Then you can't vote against it!" he shouted, somewhat after the fact.

I felt inclined to remind him, "Besides, this is Casa de Maxwell-Schbeiker, right?"

Duo shrugged. A moment later, he put a hand to the back of his head. With an amused grin, he ever-so-casually concluded, "I don't think _Schbeiker _would mind you walking around in a towel all the time."

I sort of growled, low, like Heero used to. It was one of those times when there were no words for Duo. It didn't help that I was trapped in between him and Quatre, in a very narrow hallway, clad only in a thin khaki towel.

"Morning, Trowa!" Quatre chirped, backing up a bit to give me room to pass. He must've sensed my claustrophobia. My Duophobia.

"What? Trowa gets a 'good morning,' but I don't?" Duo crossed his arms.

"Morning," Quatre began, "...Duo," he finished, but not before Duo had slipped into the bathroom and shut the door.

* * *

I sat on the sofa, my eyes about the only part of me moving. Duo's eye mask sat on the coffee table, discarded and forgotten, yet possessing the power to make me wish I could be more like him.

_He _was downstairs, or outside, maybe, doing those couple of things he said he had to do. I'd heard engines rumbling, the sound of thick tires rolling over gravel, and things crunching. I took it to mean more junk had arrived. Although, I suppose someone could've been taking it away.

I'd ask Duo later, which it was, if I thought about it.

Quatre was knelt down in the corner of the room, sifting through CDs. His choice surprised me, when he finally made it. I'd have expected something quiet, gentle, classical. (Assuming anything of the sort could be found in Duo and Hilde's combined music collection.) Maybe not. Maybe he didn't see anything he really wanted, nothing like what he had in mind, so he settled for something else. Something different. Not necessarily bad, but different.

What's that they always say about art imitating life...? I wonder, does it apply to music as well?

I remember seeing that headline, in one of Catherine's gossip magazines. (It was sitting on the table, already open. I wasn't reading it.) This had to have been about a year ago. But it wasn't the headline as much as the picture beneath it. A black and white, taken in haste, of Quatre, walking out of some charity benefit, with Dorothy Catalonia. They both had PR people to deny everything. But then more pictures turned up, and in respectable publications, too. Mostly in the society pages, but I still saw.

Quatre never outright explained any of it to me. I was pretty sure he knew that I knew and just felt things were better left unsaid. Whether because he was worried I'd disapprove, or was completely confident I'd understand, I may never know.

Quatre looked up suddenly. "Something wrong?"

I shook my head.

"Don't approve of my choice?" he asked, playfully. He knew. Somehow, he knew what was on my mind. Quatre's got this unexplainable and downright creepy way of knowing what I'm thinking.

He turned the music up. Loud. That's right, _Quatre Winner _saw fit to turn the volume _up_ on _Duo Maxwell's _stereo.

No use denying anything, so I simply replied, "Just took me by surprise."

"Oh. That's fair."

This was the most we had spoken on the matter, to date.

Quatre headed for the balcony and I decided to join him. I left the doors open and the music still seemed loud, even from out there.

Quatre looked back at me. He was wearing a white dress shirt, untucked for the time being, and black slacks. It was all remarkably wrinkle-free, for having just come out of his suitcase. He wasn't wearing a jacket. But it still seemed to be a bit much for the occasion - this _occasion _being a day with me and Duo.

"Wonder what Duo's doing...?" he asked.

"I'm not sure, exactly. He headed downstairs while you were in the shower. He is the only one to run this place while Hilde's away, isn't he?"

"That's a lot of responsibility, don't you think?"

"He seems to be handling it just fine," I said, quickly.

"Well, sure. But I don't think he'd object to having another pair of hands around here. That's all."

"That's all?" I repeated, skeptically. "Really?"

Quatre nodded. "Really." He meant it.

He went back inside, but I lingered behind a minute. "You've changed," I whispered. I don't think he heard me over his music.

* * *

Quatre turned the stereo off when he had to take a call. He kept it off, turning on his laptop instead. He typed away at something, while I got started on breakfast. I dug around for something to cook. Quatre had proven to be an efficient grocery shopper and I'll admit it surprised me.

Duo's first words, when he entered the apartment from the office were, "I smell food."

"Trowa's cooking breakfast," Quatre said. Something told me he hadn't so much as looked up from his computer.

"I see that," Duo said. "I smell that."

I could feel him right behind me, the scent of the shampoo on his still-damp rope of hair mingling with the aroma of the food.

"What are we making?" he asked.

"_We_?" I repeated the word, curiously. "Pancakes," I resigned, when I realized withholding information would only bring me grief. It's not like he wouldn't figure it out anyway.

"I had stuff to make pancakes?" Duo sounded surprised, and rightfully so.

"You're welcome!" Quatre called out. He was aware of us, no doubt, but it was clear to me that his focus was elsewhere. His mind was on something else.

Once I was satisfied I'd made enough food for the three of us, I called for Duo and Quatre to come grab whatever they wanted.

We ate in relative silence, until Duo piped up and asked, "What's on the agenda for today, fellas?"

I shrugged, and Quatre shot us both an apologetic glance. "I have to go soon."

"Go?" Duo asked.

"I have to meet with some people."

I _knew _he was too dressed up for just us. I knew he had an ulterior motive in all this. This was a business trip for him, but he'd tried to convince me it would be a vacation for me.

Putting me in a small apartment with Duo Maxwell is not a vacation.

"Big, important meeting, eh? Is that so?" Duo asked.

"I wish I didn't have to. I'd love to spend the whole day with you two. It's been too long."

"I guess me and Tro'll just have to entertain ourselves." Duo winked at me.

I rolled my eyes. "You do a fine job of it, entertaining yourself."

"Geez. What's with you? Wake up on the wrong side of the floor this morning?" Duo chuckled at himself and reached for the syrup.

Quatre laughed into his juice cup, but was quick to silence himself when he caught my glare. He finished his drink, then stood up. He put one hand on Duo's shoulder and the other on mine. "You've been a wonderful host, Duo. Thank you. And Trowa, thank you for making breakfast. It was great. I'm glad you cooked."

Statement: I'm glad you cooked.

Translation: I'm glad _you_ cooked.

* * *

"Hey!" Duo called out, suddenly. "I never showed you my bedroom. Wanna see my bedroom?"

I stared at him. I had a feeling a summons to Duo's bedroom wasn't something to be taken lightly. No matter how 'light' said invitation might seem.

Duo pinched a bit of my shirt sleeve in between his thumb and index finger and pulled. I turned my head and looked down at my arm. Duo tugged at my shirt again. "Come on. I won't try to molest you."

I stood up and agreed, "Fine."

Duo was already in the hallway. Without even looking back, he sort of croaked, "Do. Or do not. There is no try."

The impression was a fairly accurate one. I remembered the line to be from that movie of Duo's, the one I'd been subjected to last night.

I smiled and shook my head. His back was turned; he couldn't see me.

When Duo reached his room, he opened the door, then flattened himself against it, willing me to enter first. I stepped in and stood right in the middle of the bedroom, trying to process everything before me.

There were some clothes on the floor and a few stray shoes; I didn't see a matching pair among any of them. The walls were covered in posters, newspaper clippings and pictures - some cut from magazines. He even had some of us. And right in the middle of it all, almost touching the bed, was a drum set.

Duo Maxwell with a drum set. I was overcome with a very sudden, very strong surge of respect (and pity) for Hilde.

"Well, this is it."

Unsurprisingly, Duo headed for the drum set. He sat at the foot of his bed and seemed to pull the sticks from under his mattress.

"Can you actually play?" I asked, skeptically.

"Hell yeah I can. Well, not really. But I will someday!" he insisted, the picture of optimism.

"Someday...?" I asked, quietly, almost having trouble getting the word out. _Someday_. It was one of those words I didn't like to say, or to even think about. It was one whose message I still couldn't believe in. It spoke of hopes, dreams, wishes, and promises fulfilled - things I've never known much of.

"Yup!" Duo agreed, happily. He began banging on things randomly. It was a complete put-on. I knew he wasn't really _that _bad. It wasn't long before he started singing, too. Loudly, and purposely off-key. I knew he could sing well, having heard him in the shower plenty of times, during the war. A row of three-by-three stalls on Peacemillion - that was his venue of choice back then. He'd introduce himself and ask if we had any requests. Quatre would ask for opera; Howard, for oldies - usually rock. But the most common _request _was for Duo to just shut up.

I think it bothered the rest of us, how good he was. It almost made you ache. It was hard to be around someone who could kill as well as any of us, but who could _live _that much better.

I don't think I ever realized it before, just how much I respected Duo. Envied him, too.

Even like this. No, even _more _like this, I thought, watching him drum. If one could refer to his incessant, frenzied pounding as such. He gave the cymbals one last good smash, then looked to me, presumably, for my critique.

"I'm awesome, I know. Even for a novice. No need to tell me."

"I sincerely hope that was a joke," I told him.

"Wha...?"

"You're awful."

Duo let out a little 'as if' snort. "Oh, I get it. We're saying things that are totally and completely not true right now. Okay, it's my turn. Let's see." He paused and put his poker face on. "You're ugly. You're very, very ugly, Trowa."

I coughed a little. The remark took me by surprise. I'm not quite sure how, given what he's already said to me in the short time I've been here with him. Before I could say anything in response, he was holding the sticks out to me. I wonder how disappointed he was that I wouldn't play.

* * *

"Wanna go to a game? Catch a movie? Pick a fight with a hobo?" Duo asked.

I had no idea where we were going, and apparently, neither did he. All I knew was that he'd locked up _everything_, not just the apartment and the office, but the gates as well, and we'd headed down the street on foot.

"Or we could try and catch a hobo instead."

I shook my head. It wasn't funny. I told myself it wasn't funny, but I just couldn't be convinced, it would seem.

Duo continued to make suggestions. "There's a couple little museums, a zoo. Didn't figure you'd be interested in that, though."

I shrugged. "Doesn't matter."

"I think there's a game today. Let's go to the game," Duo persisted. He took a moment to dribble and shoot an imaginary basketball, right there on the sidewalk. "How 'bout it?"

"Fine by me."

So, we continued walking, all the way to the arena, which really wasn't that far, bought tickets and headed inside. It was a last-minute purchase, so we ended up in the upper level. It didn't bother me. I didn't even know who was playing. I wouldn't have known what sport, either, if not for Duo's little display on the street.

The game was a blowout; I'm not sure if Duo's team won or not. He seemed to lose interest near the end and was putting all of his effort into convincing me to try and get a piece of popcorn into the exposed asscrack of a man in the section below us.

It didn't seem like any time had passed, as we were filing out of the arena, post-game. But it always was harder to tell that on the colonies.

Back out on the street, Duo asked, "Hungry?" and I replied, "I guess."

Then he said, "I know a place," and I agreed, "Okay."

We zigzagged around for a while, until Duo announced, "This is it," and reached for a door handle.

A bell chimed as we stepped inside. The place was tiny, the decor beyond eclectic - everything from black and whites of old-time movie stars to watercolors of fruit bowls to hideous abstract pieces on the walls. There were a few tables in a row, and a short counter against the window, with stools. Oldies played in the background, almost drowned out by static and the sound of things frying from the kitchen, which was in plain view of the rest of the restaurant. It did smell damn good in there, though.

Was the food that much better on L2? Or did Duo just have a knack for this sort of thing? No, he'd just had a lot more time to figure out what was good around here and what wasn't.

However, "Best sandwiches ever," was all Duo said about the place, approaching the counter.

I hung back a couple of steps and looked up at the menu. I was fairly certain Duo already knew what he wanted. Of course, I wasn't so quick to decide. I think part of me wanted everything, part nothing.

For lack of seating anywhere inside, we took our lunch to go, figuring we'd find a bench or table or something, soon enough. It took us a while, but we did find an unoccupied picnic table, in the park.

I took one side, but Duo wasn't so easy to please, it would seem. He kept swearing there was something wrong with the other bench and refused to sit on it. I made a point of stretching out my legs and taking up my entire bench to keep him from sitting next to me.

He noticed me do it and threatened, "I could just sit on your lap, you know."

"Try it and you won't be sitting on anything for a long time," I warned him.

"Is that a threat?" Duo raised his eyebrows. "Or a come-on?"

I never should have opened my mouth.

Duo finally settled in, cross-legged, on the tabletop. Paper wrappers and chip bags crinkled, soda cans popped open and we didn't talk for a while.

* * *

"Saw the most interesting newspaper headline a while back," Duo said, suddenly. He was baiting me.

"Mmm hmm," was my noncommittal response. Partly because I was chewing, and partly because I wasn't sure this was a discussion I wanted to have, whatever the subject turned out to be. I had an idea.

Duo continued, "Involving our little buddy, Quatre."

"And Dorothy Catalonia?" I guessed.

"Seen it, eh? Didn't figure you for the type."

"And you?"

"Just killin' time, in line at the supermarket. This was a while ago, now. I was actually trying to find the story about the Vice Foreign Minister being impregnated by Bat Boy."

I couldn't decide what was stranger: the idea of Duo reading that sensationalist garbage, or the idea of Duo going grocery shopping. Given the contents of his refrigerator before Quatre came along, I'd have to say the latter is indeed more peculiar.

"You don't, you know, think it's true, do you?"

"No." I shook my head. "I _know _it is."

"Whoa, buddy," he mumbled, into his sandwich. "Wonder why Quatre never said anything."

I shrugged.

"Wonder how the hell it happened, too."

I shrugged again.

"I don't know about you, but I'd have a hard time cozyin' up to someone who once stabbed me."

"Yet you have no issues with constantly propositioning the guy who destroyed your Gundam...?"

"Hey!" Duo shouted, and for once his offense may have been genuine. "That's different," he mumbled. He seemed ashamed.

"Whatever. It doesn't matter anyway," I said.

"Right, right. Shrug it all off, let it all roll right off your back. I know how you are. I know you're like the Mayor of Apathytown and all, but-"

The remark, in all of its overwhelming absurdity, caught me off-guard and I laughed a little. "I'm the what?"

Duo didn't answer, just looked at me, strangely. "I don't think I've ever made you laugh before."

"You've heard me laugh before," I insisted.

Duo wagged a finger at me. "Ah-ah. I said I didn't think I'd ever _made _you laugh before, not that I'd never _heard _you laugh before."

"Oh."

"I think Heero's the only one who's ever cracked you. That I've seen anyway. And that's so not cool, because Heero's like, the not funniest guy ever."

Duo was doing it again - purposely exaggerating, saying stupid things just to get a reaction. He's much more clever than he lets on. It bothers me to see him act a fool. It always has. I don't care that he's silly, that he gets amusement out of the most juvenile of things, that he's giddy and excitable, given the right stimulus. That he acts like a kid half the time. More now that the war is over. It's pretending that he's completely unintelligent - I hate it when he does that.

"Why do you do that?" I asked, suddenly.

"Why do I do what?"

"Pretend to be stupid."

"Who says I'm pretending?" Duo challenged.

"I do."

"Calling bullshit, eh? Ah, well. You get points for catching on. Don't really know why I do it. It's what everybody expects, ain't it?"

"That's no reason," I said, sort of hotly. "It's just an excuse, and not even a good one."

"Okay, then. Let's make a deal," Duo proposed.

"A deal?"

"Yeah. I'll stop pretending to be stupid, if you stop pretending to be an unfeeling buttwipe."

"Me? Resign as the Mayor of Apathytown?" I wondered, with faux-sincerity.

"That would be a good start."

"But who would run the place?"

Duo put both hands down on the table, leaned forward on his palms and examined me, curiously. He looked almost like a cat. "You worried about it?"

"I suppose I am."

"You're _worried_? About _Apathytown_?"

"Ironic, isn't it?"

Duo smiled and leaned back. "Sure is."

* * *

It wasn't so late when we returned, but we barely beat Quatre back to the scrap yard. I hadn't realized it earlier, and apparently, Duo and Quatre hadn't either, but none of us had established exactly where we were going and when we'd be back, before splitting up. All _we _knew was that Quatre was meeting with some people, and all _he _knew was that Duo and I were spending the day together. Damn right he knew _that_. It was entirely his fault.

Once past the 'What'd you guys do?' and the 'Where did you go?' and 'Was it fun?' and anything else Quatre could think of to throw our way, it was time to decide on what we'd do the rest of the evening.

Fancy restaurant names were suggested, snaring hobos was brought up again, and I think I mentioned something about drowning myself in Duo's tub.

_"I bet I've got a net around here somewhere."_

_"It's on me, guys. Come on. I just want to have a really nice dinner with you two."_

_"If you'll both excuse me, I'm going to go and die now."_

_"Just swing it - little swish, all in the wrist - and you've caught one. Betcha _he _wouldn't wanna go to your fancy restaurant either, Quatre."_

_"A streetwalker? Probably not, Duo. Listen, I'll let you order anything you want. That goes for both of you. I'll even get the entire wait staff to serenade you while you eat."_

_"Really, seriously, going to die now."_

_"Just one nice dinner before I have to go - ah, hold that thought. Hello? Wait, don't walk away from me, you guys! No, no, I'm here."_

Duo and I agreed to go to Quatre's swanky restaurant, on the condition he turn his phone all the way off and keep it off for the entire time we were there.

He groaned a little, but covered it well, and agreed, "Done. If that's what it takes." A moment later, he added, "That's actually a small price, considering it's the two of you."

Damn him for calling our bluff.

* * *

The restaurant was upscale, as expected. Valet service, which we declined, as Duo refused to surrender his keys to anyone. I'm guessing most people would need reservations to get into the place. The maitre d' must've recognized Quatre, though he didn't let on. He's not a celebrity by any means, but he is somewhat known, more on L4 than anywhere else. I bet he's pretty well known at just about every high class establishment on earth or in space, though.

We were seated, almost instantly, at quite a nice table, called 'sirs,' much to Duo's amusement, and assured we would be well taken care of, and swiftly.

"If I see anything resembling an eyeball anywhere on my plate," Duo grumbled, looking over the top of his menu.

"Your milk probably sprouted eyeballs, Duo," Quatre said, actually reading his menu.

"Then why'd you make me get rid of it! I could've done stuff with that."

Quatre lowered his menu. "Like what?"

I was actually quite relieved when the waiter came by, if only because it kept Duo from elaborating on the subject. The man was wearing a dress shirt and tie, had slicked-back hair and a white towel draped over his arm. He introduced himself and said he'd be taking care of us, then listed off the specials, all before he finally asked for our order.

_Relieved_, sure, until it dawned on me, that even after all that, I still hadn't decided what I wanted.

The tone, so far, was strange. Dinner the night before had been about the past, with the three of us talking mostly about times during the war. None of us had said much about what we were doing now. Quatre was being his usual reserved self, Duo had alternated between stuffing his face and making inappropriate remarks, and I just really didn't have much to say. Because, let's be honest now, most of the time I was a complete jerk to the both of them, and the rest of the time... Well, the only reason I wasn't being a jerk then too was because I didn't remember I was one.

I managed to stay off the chopping block for most of our meal, with Duo choosing to grill Quatre instead, about his liaisons with one Dorothy Catalonia. It was bound to happen sooner or later, and as far as I was concerned, Quatre had been lucky to avoid interrogation for as long as he had.

"So, Quatre," Duo began, suspiciously. He toyed with his straw.

"Yes?"

"Done anything new lately?"

"Anything new? Like what? I've been working a lot," Quatre replied, casually.

"Done _anyone _new lately?"

"Duo!"

Duo glanced at me. "That's a yes if I ever heard one."

Having regained his composure with remarkable speed, Quatre sipped his tea then asked, "Is there something you want to know?"

"As a matter of fact, there is."

Quatre nodded. "Of course. All you have to do is ask."

"Who - this one's just a formality, of course. What? When? Where? And most definitely, _why_?"

"Dorothy Catalonia," Quatre answered. He paused. "I don't know what you mean by _what_. As for _when_, I guess you could say it started, _really _started, about a year and a half ago. We kept running into each other at parties and things like that. Then we started going to parties together on purpose. Then we started going other places together on purpose."

"Right, right." Duo nodded, mulling it over. "And for the most important question: the why."

"The why?" Quatre repeated, curiously. He knew damn well what Duo meant, but was playing dumb for some reason. "Why what?"

Duo leaned forward and, in a loud whisper, asked, "Why _her_?"

"I love her," Quatre answered simply, and I could tell he meant it.

Duo blinked a few times, and straightened up. "Oh." He paused. "Damn."

"Is there something wrong?" Quatre wondered, very pleasantly, very sincerely.

"Yeah, there's something wrong," Duo insisted. He shook his head, and gave a wry grin. "I can't argue with that."

Taking that as having received Duo's blessing, Quatre smiled a little. His relief was well-concealed, but not completely hidden.

Duo, in typical Duo fashion, added, "I can, of course, mock you to no end about it."

Quatre laughed a little, but was quick contain it and start asking questions of his own. "And you?"

"Hmm?" Duo murmured.

"How are things? How's Hilde?"

Duo gave a casual little wave. "Fine and dandy."

"Will we get to see her while we're here?"

"Maybe. Don't really know. She comes and goes. Goes more than she comes, though."

"Is everything alright?"

"Of course. What? It's not like she's my girlfriend or anything. She can do as she damn well pleases. And she does. Ah, she's just off, bein' Hilde. Livin' it up, doin', I don't know, whatever the hell 'Hildes' do."

"'Hildes?'" I couldn't help but ask. "She's her own species now?"

Duo chuckled. "Sure seems that way, sometimes."

Then Duo and Quatre both looked at me. My eyes said 'What more could you two possibly want from me?' Or at least, I hoped they did, so I wouldn't have to. No such luck, so I finally asked, "What?"

"What about you, Trowa?"

"What about me?" I closed my eyes for a moment. "Who, what, when, where, and why?" I asked, bitingly. Much more so than I'd intended, anyway.

Me, nothing, always, wherever the circus is, and, finally, because I have nothing else.

* * *

"Eight missed calls?" Even Quatre seemed surprised, as he looked over his phone. I was curious what exactly about this surprised him. Was eight higher than he expected? Or lower? "My sister, business, Dorothy, business, Dorothy again. Who is _that_? Whoever they are, they called right back. And Catherine."

"Catherine?" I echoed. Quatre nodded. "How did she get your number?"

"I gave it to her a while ago. Have you even checked in with her since you got here, Trowa?"

"No, I haven't. She knew where I was going, and who I was going with." I sounded tired, even to myself.

Quatre amusedly remarked, "I'd imagine that's why she called _me _looking for you. And I missed it because you two made me turn the phone off! She must be worried sick about you, Trowa! Not even knowing if you made it to Duo's, much less where you are now." The "I'm calling her back right now," could've gone unsaid, but it didn't.

It wouldn't be the first time I'd gone off and not checked in. In the past, I didn't even say I was leaving. I couldn't afford Catherine knowing that much. Not only could it have compromised my mission, but she could've been hurt. She could've been hurt just for knowing me. No, for having _met _me. She didn't _know _me, then.

Duo was sniggering, but trying to be quiet about it, for some unknown reason. I doubted it was out of concern for Catherine, who had, apparently, answered Quatre's call and was chatting happily with him. I suppose it could've been for her. In any case, I _knew _it wasn't out of concern for me.

"Mmm hmm, you take care too, and say hi to everybody. Yes, that's right. No, we haven't set a date, yet. I'll pass that on to her, thanks. Alright, I'll do my best to keep him in line. Here he is." Quatre handed the earpiece to me.

Haven't set a date...?

"Having too much fun to call your big sis and tell her you aren't dead in a ditch somewhere?" Catherine asked.

"Something like that," I muttered.

"Aww, always so grumpy. You are having fun, aren't you? How's everything?"

"Fine."

"Are you eating well?"

"Great, until tonight," I answered.

"What was great until tonight?" Quatre asked.

"She asked if I was eating well," I explained.

Duo's sniggering was more pronounced now.

Catherine asked, "Is that Duo?"

"Yes, that's Duo."

Then she said, "Tell him hi for me."

"Catherine says hi," I said, to the still sniggering Duo.

"Tell her I say, 'Salutations, babe.'"

"He says hi, too."

"That ain't what I said! Get it right, damnit!" Duo shouted. Catherine heard it, and laughed.

"Oh, that was funny," she whispered, once her giggling was under control. "Tell him that was funny."

I assured her, "No need. He's well aware. He _is_ his own greatest fan."

"You sound good, Trowa. Happy."

"What makes you say that?"

"You do."

Before I could continue to question Catherine on that, I heard a beep. I knew what it meant. "I have to go, Catherine. Quatre's getting another call. He's quite a bit more important than I am."

"Trowa," she murmured, sadly.

"I'll see you when I get back."

"Yeah," she agreed, quietly. "Be good."

"Goodbye, Catherine."

"And be happy."

I didn't respond, just ended the call with Catherine, and answered the incoming call. "Hello?"

I was met with a quick, but relatively pleasant, "Who is this?"

"I'll put Quatre on. He was kind enough to let me borrow his phone." I removed the earpiece and returned it, explaining, "Dorothy," as Quatre took it from me.

Duo and I walked ahead, when it became clear Quatre was hanging back on purpose. He wanted privacy.

"The warden?" Duo asked.

I smirked. "I bet she prefers 'girlfriend.' But yes."

I suddenly flashed back to Quatre's words, 'No, we haven't set a date yet.' "Or fiancée."

"_Fiancée_?" Duo repeated, dumbfounded.

* * *

_OMG, note time: Crap. I forgot what I was going to talk more about. Um... Oh yeah, the whole 'recognizable Quatre' thing. He's kinda well known, isn't he? That much is established during the series. But it seems like the talented Mr. Winner can turn this on and off at will, as he's able to go about most of his business without being called on his heir status. It's a fine line, and I hope I didn't cross it. My bad if I did._

_I consulted a dictionary for the spelling of maitre d' and that was what I got._

_And don't worry, I'm not anti-Hilde and I have no intentions of saying anything bad about her, or doing anything bad_ to _her. Her absence just made it easier. Look at the lengths I'm going to with Quatre just to give Trowa and Duo time alone. XD  
Reviews are nice, and will be returned, if applicable._


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Gundam Wing characters, etc. _

_Warnings and crap: 2+3. 4xD referenced. Fair amount of angst and a couple of pointless scenes in this one. Nonetheless, I hope everybody enjoys it._

_EDIT: Just cleanin' up some. There was a part of this story that I've hated from the get-go and I hope I've fixed it with this latest round of tweaking. _

* * *

I woke up to the sound of someone rummaging around in the kitchen. I was pretty sure it was Duo, seeing as how Quatre was out cold, on the couch near to me. Imagine my surprise when I sat up to get a better look and saw not Duo, but a girl with dark hair, in loose pigtails, wearing a bright pink and black tank top and matching pajama pants. Hilde looked different. I don't know why it surprised me. It had been even longer since I'd seen her, than it had been since I'd seen Duo.

She reached for a glass from the cupboard. Then she took something from the refrigerator - one of the various beverages Quatre had picked out, I assumed. A moment later, she exited the kitchen and padded into the living room, drink in one hand and a bag of cookies _over_ the other.

"Did I wake you?" she whispered. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine. I was awake anyway."

Hilde sat down on the coffee table, placing her drink (milk?) to her left, and keeping the cookies on her lap. She removed her hand from the sack, two cookies within its grasp. She bit into one and offered me the other. "Cookie?"

I shook my head.

She shrugged. "Well, they're right here if you change your mind." She took a moment, then asked, "When did you two get here?"

"Couple of days ago," I answered.

Hilde nodded. "How long are you staying?"

"Couple more days, probably."

"That's cool." She waved the bag of cookies in front of my face. "Sure you don't want any?"

"I'm sure."

Hilde stood up, suddenly. She picked up her drink from the table and held it out, almost as if to toast me. "It was nice to see you again, Trowa." She didn't move for a moment, just remained stationary, as if she had something more to say to me. But in the end, she kept her thoughts to herself and walked away without another word.

I didn't see Hilde again, until we were passing through the office, on our way out for the day. I wondered if I'd see her at all, though, with all that coming and going she's been doing.

She was on the phone, saying, "Really? We weren't open yesterday? That's strange. Are you sure we weren't just away for a little while? Hmm."

Hilde reached out and grabbed at Duo's arm. She moved the phone away from her ear and covered the mouthpiece, as she whispered, "Were we locked up yesterday?"

"Yup," Duo replied, casually, trying, it seemed, to wriggle out of her grasp.

"Why?"

"'Cause there wasn't anybody here to stay open."

Hilde looked guilty, but said nothing more to Duo. She lifted her hand from the mouthpiece of the phone and addressed the person on the other end of the line. "Sorry for the wait. We're a little understaffed lately. But I promise I'll get to the bottom of this for you."

Duo was staring at Hilde now, Quatre and I at the both of them.

She whispered, "Go," and smiled at him.

He actually sounded aggravated when he said, "No, I'll stay and help you out."

After Hilde was done on the phone, she kept pleading with Duo for him to just go off and have fun with us, insisting she'd handle all the work. She owed him, after all, for not being around lately. But he wouldn't hear of it. Hilde finally agreed to let him stay and help out, and said something about 'the boys' coming by earlier to see if he was around.

Friends of Duo's? Classmates, maybe? I guess I should've asked, since I was so damn curious, but I didn't. I merely gave Duo a hollow, "Yeah," when he told me and Quatre to go on, get some coffee or something, screw around town for a while, and come back for him in a couple of hours.

* * *

"I just kinda wanna surprise her with something," Quatre explained. _After _I'd told him he didn't have to. "No big deal. Just a little...I mean, that's normal, right? Sending flowers."

"To your girlfriend?" I finished the sentence. It didn't take a genius to figure out he wanted the interruption.

He nodded, then shook his head, almost right after.

"It's none of my business," I insisted.

"Yeah, but I've kept a lot from you, and I'm sorry," he apologized.

I wanted to groan, but I wouldn't. We were in public after all. In a small flower shop, of all places. They boasted locations everywhere, both in space and on the earth. Orders could be placed from anywhere, to anywhere, with the recipient being delivered only the freshest flowers.

Could this have been more awkward...?

I had my answer to that one soon enough, when the salesgirl came out from the back, and saw the two of us in there, and thought God knows what about us.

"I just, I should have said something sooner," Quatre persisted.

"Quatre, stop," I scolded him.

Yup. The girl thought we were complete freaks. Her walking-on-eggshells greeting of, "May I help you, gentlemen?" was a dead giveaway.

Once Quatre had decided on an arrangement, a card, and explained to the girl who it was all for (_not _the irritated, frowning man next to him), he turned to me and asked, "Should we bring something back for Duo?"

"From _here_?" I couldn't help but ask.

"No, not from here," Quatre assured me, amusedly.

"Then what?"

"But we should bring _something _back for him. Shouldn't we?"

"Something?"

"To drink, or eat, or just some silly little thing he'd like." Quatre glanced at me. "What does Duo like?"

"You're asking me?" I expected Quatre to break in and say something, but he didn't. So, I continued, "You'd know better than I would."

He smiled, far too slyly, and said, "I don't know about that."

* * *

Quatre and I passed through the gates at the scrap yard, both glancing around for any sight of Duo. He could've been inside, but it didn't seem very likely, for some reason. I spotted him first, knelt down behind who knows what. It was metal, and unidentifiable, in its current state. It wasn't long before Quatre saw Duo too, and he saw us. He put a hand to his mouth and signaled for us to be quiet.

What the hell was Duo doing now?

Figuring he was probably hiding from Hilde, I rolled my eyes, but obliged. I wouldn't give him away. It was all for nothing, though, as Quatre shouted, "Duo? What do you think you're doing, hiding over there?"

Before Duo could answer - he'd hardly even been able to stand up - he was hit with several water balloons, and three boys, also armed with big, neon squirt guns, came out of nowhere. They were all beyond triumphant. The youngest was probably about six, and the other two looked to be nine or ten.

They laughed and shouted and pointed, while Duo scowled. But he recovered from it all quickly enough. He took advantage of the boys' celebration and scooped up the youngest, disarmed him, and held him upside down. One shouted, "Ah, man!" The other just stared at Duo, his expression blank, but his eyes narrowed slightly. I figured there was a pretty good chance he was plotting something. There was something a bit unsettling about him. Whatever it was, though, the other two didn't seem to mind it. Although I knew next to nothing about this trio, I could still sense a deep bond between them.

Duo, looking smug, shouted, "Nobody try anything funny, or the little guy gets it!"

The little one sighed, still upside down. He wasn't squirming at all. He crossed his arms and shook his head and very calmly said, "Save yourselves."

Duo looked at him, bemusedly, while Quatre yelled for Duo to put the poor kid down already, and I laughed.

Sometime after I'd ceased chuckling over a small child's misfortune, it was decided (without any input from me) that there would be a rematch. We'd split up into teams, so Duo could 'exact his revenge,' because he 'had a reputation to protect,' as 'the God of Death _does not _go down to a few little twerps!'

We divided into two teams of three. I had thought it would be me, Duo and Quatre versus the boys, who I'd since learned were named Levi, Cody and Todd. Levi being the quiet, intense one, Cody, his little brother, and Todd, the loudmouth of the group. But Cody and Todd claimed me, and I found it odd. I didn't protest, though I was curious how the third member of their little unit felt about being teamed up with Duo and Quatre. Too quiet to say anything, it seemed.

Water guns were refilled, more balloon grenades made, all the while I told myself I was far too old to be doing something like this, but going through the motions anyway. Then, we snaked through the junk and dirt, ducked and crouched and peeked around heaps of scrap, signaling to each other, covering each other. It lasted longer than I would've expected, considering I was probably older than both of my teammates put together and Duo was part of the opposition.

I actually felt a slight sense of accomplishment, as I aimed my (borrowed) weapon at him. He let out a casual, "Ah, crap," and seemed ready to take his punishment like a man. Cody and Todd flanked Quatre when he moved in to try and help Duo. It was anybody's guess where Levi was.

"We're pals, right, Tro? Come on, how 'bout it? Whaddya say?" Duo pleaded. He was still wet from before, but there would be no mercy.

"What do _I_ say?" I began. "_I_ say that civilian life has made you sloppy."

Before I could taunt Duo further, before Duo could try to talk his way out of certain capture, I heard something behind me and spun around. Levi. We drew on each other at the same time. I had to admit, the kid had some skills. Skills he would hopefully never have to use for real.

Instead of firing on me, like I expected him to, Levi went for Duo and Quatre. Before any of us could think 'traitor,' it became an absolute free-for-all. Every gun was emptied, and every balloon thrown, many hitting their mark. The six of us ended up soaked and covered in dirt and dust, kicked up from all of our running around.

"Little...! Stupid...! Son of a...! Why, I oughtta...! _Damn kids!_" Duo shouted. I wanted to laugh at him. It wasn't often he was genuinely flustered. Maybe he was having trouble trying to think of things to yell without swearing up a storm. He just sounded like such an old man in the moment.

The trio had obviously seen this side of Duo before, and had decided it was in their best interest to leave. Duo, Quatre and I all watched them walk away, and listened to their conversation for as long as we could hear it.

Cody had practically tackled his brother, shouting, "That was awesome! The way you just came up out of nowhere!"

Levi's response was to sort of shove him away, and stoically insist, "It was nothing."

"Nothing? Are you kidding? That was freaking unbelievable!" Todd roared.

"It's no big deal," Levi insisted.

The kid just couldn't take a compliment. He seemed very tired - bitter, even - for someone so young. I wondered how that could be, when he had such great friends. I hoped he'd grow out of it, and that it wouldn't take him nearly as long as it had taken me.

As it _will _take me.

The boys passed through the gates and disappeared from our sight.

Quatre looked down at his wet, dirt-stained shirt, and shook his head. He was dressed much nicer than either Duo or I. "He's quite the double agent, that one." He smiled slightly and looked up. "How do you know those three, Duo?"

Duo shrugged. "They live close by. In those crappy little apartments across the way. Come around lookin' for work sometimes. I let 'em do a little here and there, for a few bucks. Sometimes they just come to harass me, though."

"Like today?" Quatre guessed.

Duo agreed, "Like today."

That was when I realized it: these were 'the boys' Hilde had mentioned earlier.

* * *

"Little shits," Duo grumbled, as we passed through the office, on our way upstairs. He played it well (quite convincingly, actually) but I knew better. He had a soft spot for those kids.

I was a little bit behind him and Quatre was still standing outside. Another call.

Duo peeled his shirt off and opened the door leading up to the apartment. He wasn't as skinny as before, I could tell. He'd bulked up a little bit over the years. I could see a couple of scars on his back. No doubt there were others I couldn't see, either because they'd faded, or maybe his hair was covering them. His skin seemed damp, dewy almost, when the light hit him the right way.

The stairs creaked as Duo began to climb them, oblivious to my gawking, and I heard a disgruntled, "I'm soaked all the way down to my damn underwear."

Hilde sat at the table, drumming on a stack of papers with her pen. The old black and white TV was on, but she didn't seem to be paying attention to it.

I was far enough behind Duo that she was able to reach out to me without him noticing. "Hey," she whispered.

I gave her a look, but didn't say anything.

Hilde lifted the pen to her lips and I could see a small smile behind it. "Thanks for coming."

"What...?"

"Just... thanks for coming."

I shook my head. "Don't thank me. Thank Quatre."

She nodded, and her smile was gone. "Alright. I will. I'll thank him for getting you here."

"What are you getting at?" I asked, suspiciously, just as Hilde posed a question of her own.

She asked, "How do you do it?"

"How do I do what?"

She sighed and looked down. "Pretty soon there won't be anything here for him. As many times as I've told him to just leave... Or at least bring on some more people to help out. Or sell the place, split the profit. Something. _Anything_."

I watched Hilde, through narrowed eyes. Why was she telling me this...?

"He's good with his hands, he could get on as a mechanic or something, just about anywhere. Or he could just be a student full-time. This is way too much for one person to handle alone. Hell, it's hard enough with two of us."

I've never liked it when people shared things with me, especially when these things were about someone not present and completely unaware they were the subject of such discussion.

"How do you do it?" Hilde asked, once more.

"That again?"

"Going back and forth all the time. Don't you get tired?"

"I just do it." I shrugged. "It's my life. It's my home."

"I guess." Hilde fidgeted with her necklace, rather the ring hanging from the chain around her neck.

I continued, "And this is _his _home. This is his home, and that isn't something that's come easy to either of us. _That's_ why he won't just leave."

* * *

Back in the apartment, I didn't say anything to Duo about my little chat with Hilde downstairs. We both changed into dry clothes without a word, he in his bedroom and me in the living room, sure to be done before he came back out there.

I turned when I heard the door; Quatre was back inside, done with his call. I felt something on my neck and turned my head to see a grinning Duo, with his hand on my collar.

"Tag," he said, raising his eyebrows.

"I could've done it myself," I insisted, frigidly. "But thanks anyway."

"Anytime. You ever need _any _sort of help with your clothes, you know who to ask."

"I'll remember that."

"You do that, pal."

"I said I would."

"Puttin' 'em on, takin' 'em off. You name it. Or just minor adjustments. Tag stickin' out, loose thread, trouble with your fly... I'm real good with _that _one."

"I bet you are."

We ceased going back and forth when we both noticed Quatre had an odd look on his face. It didn't seem to be directed at either of us, though. "Quatre...?" I asked.

"You alright there, buddy?" Duo looked him up and down.

"I have to go," he said, quietly. He sounded a little bit confused, almost like he didn't believe what he was saying.

"What is it? Another meeting? You're startin' to make me wonder, Quatre. All these _meetings _and _phone calls_."

He smiled a little, but didn't laugh. "I wish it was a stupid meeting. I have to go. _Go_, go."

Duo offered a very blank, "What?"

"I have to leave."

"Why?"

"Business. Of course. My sisters could easily take care of it." Quatre paused to roll his eyes, his aggravation subdued, but still apparent. This is the Winner heir after all. Can't let that sort of thing show. "But I still need to go. You guys understand, right?"

I nodded and Duo let out a little, "Hmmph," but finally admitted, "Yeah, yeah. I understand."

The air was thick, no one speaking for a moment. As if sensing this was his last chance to say it, Quatre suddenly piped up, "...About Dorothy."

Duo smirked at me and I leered back in return. It was mostly to keep from smirking back.

"I'm sure you guys knew this already, but we're, you know," Quatre sort of stammered, "well, we aren't just together."

No kidding, I thought.

"Well, I mean, we aren't just seeing each other. We're... going to be married."

Big surprise. I'd had a feeling, since overhearing a little of Quatre's conversation with Catherine the other night, that he and Dorothy might've been planning this. But hearing him actually say it, and in such a remorseful tone, made me ache in a way I didn't think I could anymore. If I _ever _could.

I wonder who proposed to whom...? Much as I wanted to, I couldn't force the thought out of my mind that it was _her_. Dorothy Catalonia is a force to be reckoned with, no doubt about that. Still, she doesn't seem the type. Brazen as she is, she's old-fashioned - a traditionalist - not to mention _craftier_ than that. Don't get me wrong, _craftiness_ is a fine quality. Getting others to do what you want them to do, then feign absolute surprise when they do it. It's a skill that serves one well in life.

Yes, Dorothy Catalonia is definitely a force to be reckoned with. But sometimes I forget - I think we all do - that Quatre Winner is as well. He wouldn't involve himself in something he didn't want to be involved in. Devote himself to someone he didn't love, wholly.

It was so blatantly obvious, what she means to him, as he said, "I'm sorry."

He wasn't sorry for being with her, for loving her, for, apparently, wanting to be with her forever. Why should he be? He was sorry-

"I'm sorry I didn't say something sooner."

-he didn't think he could share any of it with the likes of me.

I was sorry too.

* * *

"Are you mad?" Quatre asked. He was packing. I was sort of sulking. Duo was out of the apartment, closing things up.

I _was _a little mad - annoyed, and more at myself than anyone else - but I wouldn't say it. My reply was another question, "When do you think you'll leave?"

"Well, I could go this evening. That would probably be best. I'll see if Duo doesn't mind giving me a ride. Or I could take a cab. Then again, I could just wait until morning and get an early shuttle out."

"Then I'll just pack up, too," I murmured. There was no winning. Either, I left with Quatre, or I stayed with Duo. "Won't take me long."

"No, you should stay. You don't have to be back with the circus for a couple more days, right? You and Duo should spend some more time together. No need to cut your trip short on my account. I wouldn't be leaving now either, if I didn't have to."

"I was leaving soon anyway," I protested.

"Not this soon, though. Don't leave because of me," Quatre pleaded.

"Why shouldn't I? I came because of you."

* * *

We were packed into the front seat of the car like sardines, with Quatre's luggage taking up the back seat. He had only packed two small bags, his briefcase and laptop. The trunk was a no-go, for some reason. Neither Quatre or I felt like pushing the matter. The trunk of Duo Maxwell's car wasn't a sight either of us seemed particularly interested in seeing.

As expected, Duo assumed the role of chauffer, Quatre, passenger, leaving me to take on the part of the poor, tortured soul stuck in the middle of it all. He must have had a bigger vehicle at his disposal. The man is a junk dealer. Don't tell me this tiny, two-door, economy whatever-the-hell is his only means of transportation. It seemed quite a bit smaller now than before, and it was small enough then.

In an attempt to give myself a little more room, I sat up straighter, pulling myself up with my hands and accidentally touching Duo's hip in the process.

"Oooh!" he crooned, his tone beyond childish. "Trowa touched my ass!"

Quatre turned to face me and blinked. He asked, "Trowa?" like he actually believed it.

I put a hand to my forehead. "I did not."

"He so did. You so did, Trowa. You so touched my ass." Duo sniggered, seeming pretty amused with himself.

"It was your hip and I can assure you, it wasn't on purpose."

"Mmm hmm," Duo murmured, slyly. "Sure thing, Tro. It was my hip and it wasn't on purpose. Of course it wasn't on purpose." There was a suspicious pause. "Because you were trying to touch my _ass_."

Needless to say, I was worried he wasn't going to let it go. I was worried what the rest of this car ride would have in store for me, especially since I'd be returning without Quatre. Here we were, mere miles from the scrap yard, and I'd already been accused of groping.

I'm not sure what I had been expecting for the trip to the shuttleport, if anything, but I'm pretty confident this wasn't it.

"You know what this reminds me of?" Duo asked, suddenly.

"I shudder to think," I mumbled.

"Duo?" Quatre called out, sort of leaning over me to address him.

"Reminds me of that movie. That one movie," Duo explained. Kind of.

The movie where a guy's so-called friends conspire to make his life a living hell? Sure thing, Duo. I know it well.

"You know, that one movie. There's like, a war goin' on, and all kinds of crazy technology and shit. And this dude, he gets seriously effed up in battle, but they turn him all robotic and stuff, you know? They graft guns and crap onto his body. I remember, his kneecaps like, opened up and shot missiles, and instead of giving him a new arm to replace the one that got blown off, they turned it into a mini gattling gun. Or was it a flamethrower...?"

What in the hell was Duo going on about...? And how did this remind him of it...?

Quatre obviously didn't know any better than I did, as he somewhat urgently tried to catch my gaze. Urgently, but discreetly, too. He gave me a pleading look, as if begging me to make sense of Duo for him. I returned his expression with a blank stare.

Let this be a lesson to him.

"And I always thought, man, what if they'd put the gun where his... you know, where his shlong was?" Duo asked, nonchalantly. He was really quite casual about it all. "That would be heavy. _Heavy._ But man, nobody would fuck with you."

"I would imagine not," I deadpanned. My statement had a double meaning. I wondered if either he or Quatre would catch on. Sometimes I fear I'm too clever for my own good. Then I remember no one's listening anyway, so what does it matter how clever I am?

Duo sort of cackled. And Quatre? Quatre was a lost cause, laughing harder than I ever would've thought either his compact body or his refined spirit capable of. It wasn't loud, or obnoxious, his laughter. It was musical, almost. Because it was genuine. He's so damn polite all the time, it's hard to tell when, rather, _if _Quatre's really, truly happy. In some ways, he's the best liar of all of us.

I was taught that lying was bad - _dirty_ - but that I needed to be good at it anyway. I have little doubt it was any different for Duo or Heero. They may have been privy to a different teaching style than I was, but the lesson was the same. As for Wufei, lying is wrong, totally and completely. It isn't a tool, like _we _were made to believe, but a crutch. Something he'd never be so weak as to rely upon.

Then there's Quatre. I think it was the way he was raised. It was a behavior he learned as a child, not a trait he picked up, being a soldier, or, at the opposite end of the spectrum, a practice he was brought up to loathe.

"Come on, you know what movie I'm talking about, right?" Duo repeated himself, drawing my attention away from my thoughts, these nonsense theories of mine about the art of deception.

"Can't say I'm familiar with it," I admitted.

"I saw this porno once, it was like, a take on the Terminator. Tell me you've at least heard of the Terminator-"

I confirmed, "I have."

"Good. So, anyway, it was called, like, the Sperminator, or something like that. Dead serious, it was. Anyway, there was this one part, where the dude was like, 'Come in me if you want to live,' and then the other dude was like, 'Don't you mean come with me?' and then the first dude was like, 'No,' and then he bent over."

After a moment, Duo concluded, "Actually, I think that was all the same movie. Hmm."

What the hell kind of movies does he...? You know what, never mind.

Once at the shuttleport, we escorted Quatre as far as we could, not having tickets ourselves. We said our goodbyes just before the security checkpoint. There were meaningful sounding promises to keep in touch, all three of us, and quick, one-armed hugs. Quatre kept going on about how much fun he had and how great it was to see me and Duo again, before he walked off.

His last words to us, spoken with his body facing away from us, but his head turned back, were, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Through his nearly closed mouth, Duo muttered, "Like Dorothy? No worries there, pal," under his breath.

I laughed a little. "You'd better get over this."

"Get over what?"

"This anti-Dorothy sentiment," I replied. After the fact, I pointed out, "And that doesn't make sense."

"Hmm?"

"He said 'Don't do anything I wouldn't do,' not 'Don't do anything I _would _do.'"

"You're sleeping on the couch tonight," Duo grumbled.

I felt compelled to remind him, "I've _been _sleeping on the floor."

"Fine, then. You're sleeping with _me_, tonight."

I wondered if it was too late to get onto Quatre's shuttle.

* * *

Duo and I hadn't spoken much on the way back from dropping Quatre off. Neither of us put any ideas out there, as to how we'd spend the rest of my so-called vacation.

While _he'd_ been uncharacteristically quiet, I just plain didn't know what to say, now that I couldn't blame the two of us being alone together on Quatre. Well, I _could_, but I was the one who had chosen to stay.

Hilde was gone when by the time we got back. She'd left a note on the refrigerator that read: _Went out. Be back in time to work. YOU HAVE SOME FUN, MISTER! P.S. You owe me a new black scarf._

Duo was on the couch, slouching, with his legs over the top of his 'gaming chair,' remote in his hand, lazily flipping through the channels. He had about a gazillion to cycle through, it would seem.

Seemingly out of nowhere, Duo asked, "So, what made you think you had to leave, just because Quatre did?"

He couldn't possibly have heard us talking. Lucky guess...?

My low, but firm reply was, "You don't want me to stay."

"Why the hell not?" Duo asked, genuinely surprised. He was sincere, I could tell. "In case you hadn't noticed, I kinda have a thing for you."

"Apparently," I muttered. "I don't care if you have a thing for me."

"That," Duo said, simply.

"That?"

"_That _I have a thing for you. Not _if_."

I insisted, "I didn't come here because I thought you might have a thing for me."

"Do."

"Do?" I repeated.

"_Do _have a thing for you. Not _might_."

"What's the point?"

"You tell me, pal."

"The point _I _was trying to make is that I didn't come here because - that's not why I came here." Damn him. I never trip over my words.

"Then why did you come?"

I didn't answer. I had no answer. I came because Quatre made me? What kind of answer is that? It wasn't even the truth. The truth was, I didn't know. I didn't know why I came.

* * *

_A/N: One more chapter, then it's done! Yay! ...I think. o.O I don't know. I prefer to write one-shots and leave anything longer unfinished. Don't worry, I'm not rushing the relationship. At least I hope I'm not. You all shall see. :)_

_I know the car scene is totally and completely pointless, and I actually considered cutting it, but was told by more than one person not to. So it stayed. Reflected on a conversation I had with my cousin, ages ago, for it. I borrowed some of his personality for Duo. _


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Gundam Wing characters, etc._

_Warnings, and whatever: 2+3+2 (see, it's finally mutual!) Mild, hinted-at spoilers for Duo's Episode Zero. Alcohol, and a bit o' sap at the end. I don't know where or how Duo gets his booze, but I bet he does it with style. :)_

_Dedication: For everybody who took the time to review me on this, or even to add it to your alerts. _

* * *

"Our dear, sweet Quatre, and _Dorothy_. Man oh man. Still can't quite believe it," Duo murmured, rummaging through a cupboard.

"Quatre and Dorothy _are _engaged," I said. "Better get used to the idea."

Duo, sounding like he'd had the wind knocked out of him, muttered, "Damn do I need a drink." In a much cheerier tone, he added, "Good thing I had the foresight to go diggin' for this." He joined me, back in the living room with a bottle of whiskey in hand. It wasn't full, but there was a fair amount left. It looked to be decent quality.

He opened it, took a whiff, and sternly said, "She better not, you know, _stab_ _him _again, or anything like that." It seemed like a silly statement, but Duo was dead serious. He raised the bottle and took a drink, then held it out for me.

I chuckled and took the bottle from him. "She won't." I hesitated a moment, but did take a drink, then passed it right back.

"How can you be so sure?" Duo took another swig. No hesitation. None in drinking, and none in handing the bottle over me once again.

"I trust Quatre." I took a swallow. Less hesitation. I wasn't about to be outdone by Duo. Of all the things to reawaken my competitive spirit. This could be bad.

"Hey, I do too. It's _her _I ain't so sure of," Duo said. He tipped the bottle, and his head this time, too, and I think this particular sip would be better described as a _gulp_.

Maybe I _was _about to be outdone by Duo.

"Have a little faith, Duo." It seemed completely and utterly wrong for me to be saying such a thing, but somehow, the words had found their way out of my mouth. And, hardly a second later, more whiskey found its way in.

Unaffected by my conviction (I wish I could've claimed the same), Duo took another chug of whiskey and declared, "Well, I tell you what, I ain't babysitting any of their brats if they have her eyebrows."

This time I took the bottle from his hand. "There's enough money between the two of them for electrolysis, I'm sure."

"Ah, man, that's a waste. An unnecessary expense. I got a better idea." Duo reached for something on the coffee table. The mask. I took yet another liberal swig of alcohol while Duo tried to tie the thing on.

"See?" he asked. "Problem solved. Eyebrows _restrained_."

"You're a genius," I muttered.

"So, how've you been?" Duo asked, suddenly.

"Isn't it a little late to be asking that?" was my response.

"Didn't figure there was much hope of getting you to answer that one sober, you know?"

I answered, "I've been fine. The same as always."

As I drank more, Duo asked, "Which one is it?"

Not quite sure what he was getting at, I let out a little, "Hmm?"

"Are you fine? Or are you the same as always?"

I didn't answer. What was the point, since it was obvious he already knew?

My lack of a reply prompted Duo to murmur, "Guess I best give the booze a little more time to kick in, yeah?"

"Guess so," I quietly agreed.

Of all the ways I thought I'd be spending this night, polishing off a bottle of whiskey with a masked man wasn't something I'd considered. I would've expected to be somewhere noisy and crowded, but off the beaten path, if it had been left up to Duo, and somewhere sophisticated and chic, if it were up to Quatre. I didn't really stop to consider where we might be if I was the one to choose. Maybe that's why things turned out this way.

* * *

Once we'd finished the liquor, Duo put the empty bottle on the floor between us and declared, "Spin the Bottle!"

I'd have scolded him for his idiocy, if I had been sober. But it was funnier intoxicated, the idea of playing Spin the Bottle with only one other person.

The reality of it turned out to be even more amusing, as I watched Duo ask one of his speakers, "What's a nice girl like you doin' in a place like this?" a split-second before planting a kiss right in the center of it. It certainly didn't help things that he was leaning on his elbow, against the wall and sort of hovering over the thing as he pretty much propositioned it. And all while wearing that ridiculous homemade mask of his.

When I stopped laughing, it occurred to me that it was my turn again. Duo was already back on the floor, right in front of me.

I was still sort of chuckling as I halfheartedly insisted, "Duo, this is stupid."

"Spin. Spin, damnit!" He made a fist and pounded the floor. "We ain't quittin' until we get this shit right," he swore.

I was this close to saying, 'If you want to kiss me so bad, just do it.' Thankfully, I still possessed enough restraint not to.

I gripped the bottle and gave it a weak spin. When it stopped, it was pointing at the glass doors, leading to the balcony. I sighed and stood up. This one was gonna leave a mark. I'd already left lip prints on the TV and the tabletop.

I leaned forward a bit and kissed the stupid door. As I was straightening up, I found Duo had come up right behind me. He brushed past me, headed outside. I followed.

He was resting his elbows on the ledge and his chin in his hands and looking forward. I moved in next to him and did the same.

A moment passed, and then I asked, "So, you like guys?" I left the word 'too' unsaid. I don't know what possessed me to say any of it, really. I'd never have asked such a stupid question sober, nor would I have even considered admitting so much about myself. I wasn't entirely sure what I'd revealed, actually. Intentionally or not. Did I like guys too...? _Just_ guys...? Guys _and_ girls...?

Most of the time I don't particularly like either.

Duo laughed. It wasn't his typical, smug, self-induced laugh. It was genuine, spontaneous. If Quatre's laughter was musical, Duo's was pure magic. "Do I like guys? What clued you in?" He took a breath. "Guys, girls. Don't matter. Like people. Like sex. With people."

"As opposed to what?" I couldn't help but ask. This guy _had _just made out with nearly every piece of furniture and electronic equipment in his living room.

"Hey, you're the animal lover," he said, casually. His smirk betrayed his nonchalant speech, though.

"You're a dick." The words were out of my mouth before I knew it. Duo only laughed more.

We both leaned harder on the railing, and gazed down at all the junk. A balcony overlooking a junk yard. Only Duo. But the piles didn't seem quite so big from up here. And I finally understood how it was he could be happy, even after all he'd been through. Duo had always been able to see the good in everything; he'd always had the ability to _find_ the good in everything, from the loads of scrap below us, to a guy like me.

Well, maybe not the _good, _but he could always find something he'd be able to work with.

We both looked up at the same time and nearly bumped heads. I reached out to his head, he to mine.

"That was a close one," he murmured, with a sort of seriousness one didn't often hear in Duo Maxwell's voice.

"That it was," I agreed.

He ran his hand through my hair, slowly. The gesture seemed very _deliberate_, very well calculated. With a lopsided grin, he whispered, "Your hair."

My face went blank. Blanker than it already was, anyway, which... probably isn't saying a lot.

"It's just so-" Duo stopped, seemingly to catch his breath. Or maybe he was searching for the rest of his thought. "_Crazy_. It's not bad, it's just crazy."

"Crazy? It's crazy? Of all this, my hair is what's crazy to you?" I couldn't believe it. The guy was something else.

He shrugged.

I slid my finger between Duo's stupid bandit mask and his temple. "Bold statement, coming from the likes of you."

"If you don't like the mask, take it off," he said, sounding more sober than he did before we started drinking.

It was a challenge. He didn't think I'd do it. I don't think he believed I could. I yanked the mask off, with more force than intended, and it flew over the balcony and into the scrap yard below.

"Damn, Trowa!" Duo shouted, peering over the ledge once again. "Didn't think you'd really do it."

I crossed my arms.

"I could kiss you right now."

I didn't move an inch.

"In fact, I think I'm gonna."

He did.

My lips were almost numb, from the alcohol and probably a little from spending the better part of my evening kissing various inanimate objects. TVs and coffee tables and sofa cushions. It surprised me, just how much I could feel, despite that. Hands on my waist, Duo's heat - his warmth - seeping through my shirt and onto my skin.

Onto my skin? No, it went far beyond that. Duo had gotten _under _my skin. Hell, maybe he'd been there all along. And now he'd gotten inside of my mouth, too. We both tasted like the whiskey, but it didn't seem as sour on his tongue as it was on my own, and together, it was almost sweet.

Still...

As I uncrossed my arms and grabbed his elbows, it was with intentions to push him away. But I just ended up pulling him closer. I'm not sure how much time passed, before we backed away from each other, wide-eyed and breathless. But I felt like I was vibrating. Before I could really register what had happened, and that I'd not only allowed it, but had participated in it, Duo had taken my hand. I'm not sure how he got a hold of it. It was pretty dark and he didn't even look before he reached out. We were still sort of staring at each other. He tightened his grip and pulled a little, wanting me to go back inside with him.

Duo didn't let go until he'd led me into the bedroom. But when we got into bed it was to sleep. He'd said goodnight to me, using the words, "We're not gonna. Not like this. Not drunk." His face was flushed, his voice slightly hoarse. I was the same.

This decree was announced _after _Duo had insisted I needed help getting my pants off, of course. But I didn't protest. I had absolutely no reason to. I didn't even look to see where he'd tossed my jeans. I'd find them in the morning. Maybe I'd find my common sense then, too. Because I had no idea where _it _was either.

I just stared up at the ceiling until I finally nodded off. I wasn't so drunk that the room was spinning, thankfully. A poster stared back at me. It was dark enough I couldn't see it well, but not so dark that I couldn't see it at all. At least there wasn't a mirror up there.

I'd done enough reflecting, and _seeing_ myself in bed with Duo now wouldn't have changed a thing. I was still leaving in a day.

* * *

A crash woke me up. My feet were hanging off the edge of the bed and I'd almost forgotten where I was. What had I just...? Damn drum set. It didn't take me long to figure out what that crashing sound was: I kicked one of the cymbals. I just hoped I hadn't disturbed Duo.

No such luck. He was a soldier, too, and he sprung up immediately. It didn't take me long to notice he was wearing only his boxer shorts and one sock. I had a vague memory of him taking his pants off. I had a vague memory of him taking _my_ pants off, too.

"Alright, I'm up," he grumbled.

It was just starting to get light out, but I could see well enough to tell that Duo's braid had come a bit loose.

He lifted his wrist to his face and looked at his watch. "And now I'm going back to sleep," he declared, with a yawn, and flopped back down on the mattress.

"What time is it?" I asked, dumbly, from my position, half on and half off the bed. No wonder I was kicking things.

"Who gives a shit?" was Duo's automatic response. In a much colder tone, he asked, "Why? You got places to be?" His voice was muffled, both the volume of it, and the bitterness he was trying so hard to conceal. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see he'd turned his pillow sideways and was hugging it.

"You need a bigger room," I noted, absently. I looked over the space, in the dim, artificial morning light. Pale orange strips stretched across the walls, over the pictures and posters and magazine pages plastered all over the place. I knew the lumps on the floor to be various pieces of clothing, some his, some mine. The short, but bulky and somewhat menacing mass directly in front of us was the drum set I'd just assaulted.

I felt Duo's hand, grabbing aimlessly for me, his fingertips drifting across my side and back, until they curled around the waistband of my underwear and he pulled. "You need a shorter body," he mumbled. He was trying to pull me up next to him, but he just wasn't coordinated enough to get it right. However, he _did _manage to snap my underwear. Nice, Duo. Real nice.

"Need to not sleep half off the damn bed, too. Need to not kick my shit at the asscrack of fake dawn."

I laid back, my eyes already closed before my head hit the bed. A moment passed before I whispered. "Sorry I woke you. Sorry I attacked your drum set."

"Ah, don't worry about it. I do that all the time. Except, I usually _trip _over the drums. Never hit 'em from bed before. Now get out or go back to sleep, it's early."

I doubted I'd fall back asleep. It was already too bright and Duo's messy, but still very much in tact braid was tickling my arm. I didn't dare touch it.

"Besides," he said, yawning. "We got the whole day ahead of us."

I'm not sure how much time had passed before I opened my eyes again. Enough that I could make out the poster on Duo's ceiling, finally. Star Wars.

I took a long overdue look at the pictures he had everywhere. I'd only glanced over them before. I hadn't actually _looked_ at any of them. There were a couple of Wufei, and he didn't look particularly happy in either of them. He was in uniform in both, so I figured they'd been taken on the job.

There were a lot of pictures of Duo and Hilde together, almost as many as there were of Hilde alone. Pictures I assumed Duo had taken. A lot of them had the look of a post-prank candid. Only one or two of Heero. He's about as cooperative a subject as I am. One of Howard next to a grill, a bottle of beer in one hand and a spatula in the other, wearing his sunglasses and flip flops, shorts and tropical shirt.

I spotted a handful of photos of Quatre, alone, and with me or Duo, or both of us. Then I saw a shot of me and Catherine. Stupid promotional picture on one of our fliers. A current one, too. No, not just _a_ current one, _the_ current one. I don't know why I was so surprised. We've toured L2 before. Duo and Hilde had come to see me once, but that was years ago, and I didn't know who the hell he was. I didn't know who _I _was.

We were traveling L2, presently. The advertisement was a testament to that. Seeing it made me wonder, if I dug deeper, looked harder, would I find a program, too? A ticket stub?

Finally, I spotted an old black and white of a church. The edges were worn, and it had yellowed a little over time. I couldn't read the name. I was curious how Duo had come upon the thing, and of what interest it was to him. I just chalked it up to the fact that he did have an odd fascination with religion.

"Whatcha doin'?" Duo asked, sleepily. The mattress creaked a little as he sat up. "Whatcha lookin' at?"

"The walls."

"How is it someone so boring can be so interesting?" Duo asked, with a chuckle. I couldn't answer before he said, "Come on, get up. There's someplace I wanna take you."

* * *

It was a long trip to this mystery place of Duo's. On another colony, entirely, though still within the L2 region. Imagine my surprise when this spot turned out to be nothing more than an empty lot. No, it wasn't completely empty, and it was obviously something to Duo. This was a place of great significance to him.

There was a sign. Most of one anyway. Stone, with a bronze plaque. As soon as I read the words 'Maxwell Church,' I knew. Even without seeing what once stood in this place, I knew. I knew this was the church from the picture, just like I knew this wasn't a physical place Duo had taken me to. This was his past.

"This is it," he said, simply, quietly, and tucked his hands into his pockets.

I didn't say anything, just stared at the plaque. We all knew about the Maxwell Church Tragedy, as it had been called. We all knew Duo was from the L2 cluster. But did we know he'd been _there_? Had the others figured it out and I was the only one who didn't know? It seemed so obvious now.

"This is where I got _this._" Duo pulled a hand out of his pocket and grabbed at his braid. "And my name." He let go of his braid and touched his index finger to the sign, to the word 'Maxwell.' "Well, part of it, anyway."

My gaze remained on the sign. There was nothing else to see there.

"And the rest of my name," Duo began, rather lightly, given the circumstances. "Well, that's a story for another time."

* * *

"So," Duo began, putting his hands in his pockets. "When am I gonna see you again?"

"I don't know," I admitted. I didn't think I'd care.

"I may just have to show up at that circus of yours, then. Surprise ya."

"Careful," I warned. "You'll get put to work."

Duo shrugged. "Fine by me. Get your sister to throw knives at me or something."

I smirked at the possibility. "I'm sure that can be arranged."

We both stood there for a moment, in complete silence. Everything had finally caught up to us, and we were both a bit tired, but we'd also dealt with much, much worse.

Out of the blue, Duo snapped his fingers, then said, "Quatre's bachelor party."

"Hmm?"

"That's when I'll see you again."

"Did he mention something about having one and I missed it?" I asked.

"Oh, he's having one. _I'm_ throwing it."

I smiled. I wondered what Quatre would think of all this, especially considering Duo's going to be the one planning it all. I was bombarded with the mental image of Duo jumping out of a giant cake dressed like a harem girl. Nonetheless, I calmly agreed, "Quatre's bachelor party it is."

"If not sooner," Duo said, with a wink.

His hands were out of his pockets, his arms open and around me before I could react. He gave me a tight squeeze, followed by a quick pat on the back, before moving one hand up to the side of my face. He pressed his lips against my other cheek and bestowed upon me, arguably the loudest, sloppiest kiss ever. It trumped anything Catherine had done to me, whenever I showed up after being away a long time.

Duo had just kissed me that way on purpose, I knew it. He was quite a skilled kisser. I'd learned this just a short while ago. Nothing sloppy about it. The last step in this little goodbye ritual seemed to be for Duo to mess up my hair, before backing away.

There we were, in the quiet again, not quite sure what to say or do. It was probably the first time since I'd arrived that I didn't want to leave. _Really _didn't want to leave. Even when I was having fun, the thought of leaving was still in the back of my mind. Mostly because it had seemed easier than staying. That wasn't the case anymore.

Duo put a hand to my chest and pushed lightly. Then he extended his index finger and poked me. He gave me a very 'you're not getting out of this one, pal' sort of look, and spoke three words: "Quatre's bachelor party."

I took his hand in mine and kept it close to me, close to my heart. I whispered, "If not sooner."

* * *

_A/N: Couple things: _

_I considered expanding on the kissy-kissy part, but the more I thought about it, it didn't seem fitting for a Trowa POV.(I'm sorry!) Perhaps something in third-person, at a later date. :) _

_Don't think Trowa would do that under the influence? XD Ask anyone whose seen me intoxicated how different _I _can be. ;) -sighs and shakes head- Breasts have been exposed. Top Ramen has been stolen. Sharpie tattoos have been both given and received. Shrimp pasta has been thrown up everywhere, and tubs have been passed out in. Fun night._

_Let's see if I've got anything else... Ah, yes. Now that this is all done and posted, I'd be pleased to know what you all thought of it. I actually finished something, and in a timely fashion. Go me._

_Onto the next Gundam fic, which has actually been in the works longer than this... _


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